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| - The mountain rose above her, imposing and foreboding, like a clan elder looking down upon her for what she dared to do, the wind howling like it's voice, clawing and tearing at her. The cliff face fell down beneath her, steep and jagged, into the valley far below. Brenna's fingers gripped at the rock, the autumn colored braids of her hair whipping about her head in the icy wind. Her muscles flexed, straining as she pulled herself up another few precious inches, and a bead of sweat ran down over the Raven tattoo on her face. A hundred yards to her right, water fell, cutting through the rock and into a pool. She glanced over at it, gritting her teeth, just before her footing gave. She slid down a dozen yards before she caught herself, scratches and wounds opening on her skin, legs dangling out over nothing but the air and the ground a thousand feet down. The stinging pain brought tears to her eyes, and her blood dribbled slick down her skin, staining the rock that stood between her and a long fall. Her laughter echoed off the stones, and her eyes blazed as she meticulously pulled herself back up, regaining her ground, past where she'd lost her footing. Swinging herself over towards a ledge, she barely caught it with a foot, before cautiously pulling herself over towards it, where she rested and tended to the worst of her cuts. This was what Brenna lived for. The thrill of danger, of placing her life on the line. Be it in battle, or scaling a mountain, she lived for the pumping of adrenaline through her veins. If given the choice, she would always pick the latter over the former, but day by day, week by week, and much to her dismay, she was finding the glory of battle growing to her liking. She stood again, grey eyes scanning the cliff face, before choosing her hand holds, and pulling herself up off the ledge. Inch by inch, foot by foot, she climbed, until her arms threatened to rebel, and a voice in her head told her she really should stop. But she refused to give up, and eventually reached the top, pulling herself up and onto the snowy ground. Brenna lay there for a moment, a stupid grin on her face at her victory over the mountain, before she noticed the cold seeping into her bones. It wasn't exactly that hard to do - her clothing was little more than some cloth sewn together to cover her modesty, and she regretted leaving her cloak and warmer armor at her camp below. Standing, the barbarian stretched a bit, loosening her muscles and trying to keep warm at the same time, before jogging to the waterfall. The thunder of it filled her ears, and she turned to gaze out over the valley. It was not long before the waterfall wasn't the only thing that was shedding tears. The endless march of the river, the weathered and beaten stones of the mountains, the snow glistening in the sunlight, the trees swaying in the breeze.... "This is life," She said, to no one in particular. She didn't follow any god or goddess, and had no desire to ever do so. What she found valuable was laid out before her, far below. What she loved was the wind in her hair and the sun high above. She got a cocky grin on her face, then walked upstream a bit, removing her top and tying it securely to her belt. Brenna was always somewhat self-conscious about her body, and nudity in general, but she was alone, and she didn't want to risk losing her top. Stretching, she limbered herself up, then cracked her neck. She started to count backwards to herself. On one, she turned and dug her heel in, sprinting forward. The edge approached rapidly, and she nearly came up upon it too fast! She pressed her foot onto what seemed to her the edge of eternity, and lept. She spread her arms wide as her feet left earth, and the valley stretched out below her. The sickly sweet feeling of vertigo that gripped her stomach as she began to fall, her lips breaking into a massive grin as the wind rushed past her face and caressed at her body. Though she'd never been interested in sexual encounters before, the adrenaline, and fear, the rush and emotion that rippled through her was not unlike that of orgasm. The water felt like a sledgehammer being swung at her by an especially enthusiastic warrior, and her breath was knocked from her lungs. Losing track of which way was up, she struggled for a time, fighting the current and the hammering of the water, before breaking the surface again, and clawing her way to the shore. The roar of the water was deafening, and she lay on her back in the grass and mud, skin reddened from the impact of the water, giggling breathlessly, and coughing until her lungs were free of water. She lay there for a time, letting the sun dry her, watching the clouds form their patterns in the sky, and sighed happily. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing could beat that thrill. Nothing. When she finally pushed herself up and stood, her muscles were stiff and soar. Her hands went for her top, only to discover that the force of the impact had torn the belt and skirt from her body, along with the top that she'd tied to the belt against just such an event, leaving her stark naked. Turning scarlet from head to toe, she made a mad dash for her campsite, wishing she had a god to pray to that no one could see her.
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